The Letter
by MiraakWho
Summary: What happens when the Dragonborn gets a letter, informing them of the death of an immediate family member? A short, 3 chapter series revolving around 3 different Dragonborns.


Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls and anything under that title belongs to Bethesda and I am making no money for writing this. I don't claim any ownership to any characters, names, or events in this piece of fiction.

You know how when an NPC dies in Skyrim and you get a letter informing you of their death, and you also get their inheritance? Well, I, being the immersion based gamer that I am, imagined what it would feel like if my character got that fateful letter from the courier informing them of the death of a significant loved one, like a parent. How would they feel? What was their relationship with that person like? What would their reaction be?

I then decided to take it a step further, and do the three main standing stones, the Warrior, Thief, and Mage. The consequences of three very different Dragonborns, from three very different walks of life, losing someone who played very big and integral roles in their lives. This fic will be a trilogy of small, simple stories of the three characters loosely based off of my own characters I played in Vanilla(unmodded) Skyrim.

Enjoi.

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" **The Letter, Chapter 1, The Warrior"**

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The warrior known as Dragonborn was a man of few words and stoic stature. He never cried, complained, or spoke to his companion, Lydia, about his feelings. The Nord was raised to be a simple, hard working man, and his father had raised him to be that well.

 _Had_ raised him.

The Dragoborn held the letter the courier had delivered him in his right hand. The chill winds of Dawnstar gusted about, crinkling the corners and fluttering the bottom of the folded paper. The Dragonborn stared at the letter impassively, his beard subtly twitching and his clear blue eyes, hidden behind the mask of his iron helmet, misted over ever so slightly.

He never thought this day would really come. He had known it would, no man is immortal. But to stand here, today, _this_ day, and realize that the man who had singlehandedly raised him after ma died, who taught him how to hold a sword and shield, who made him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and had showed him to read and write, was dead...

The unfeeling veneer he held over his heart crumbled at the edges.

"My Thane, what is it?" Lydia asked him quietly, the young brunette housecarl shifting uncomfortably on her feet, crinkling the snow beneath them.

The Dragonborn didn't reply. He just continued to stare holes into his letter, fingering the attached coin purse that was delivered with it. His breath started to get shaky and he gripped the note tighter, willing his emotional strength to not leave him as memories of his first fishing trip on the shores of Lake Ilinalta, when was ten. His father held his hands and manipulated his fingers with his own to show him how to loop a hook and bait it. His father's triumphant screams when he pulled a fat, juicy Cyrodiilic Spadetail out of the water replayed over and over in his mind.

" _That's it, lad!" he roared, throwing an arm over the young Dragonborn's shoulder and bringing him in for an embrace. "You're a natural, just like your ma!"_

The unfeeling veneer cracked down the middle, barely holding together.

"My Thane?" Lydia asked again, with a little more urgency. She put a hand on his left shoulder and read the note over his right. Upon reading it, she gasped quietly and tightened her grip on him.

With the memories that were flooding his distraught mind, it didn't help.

" _Keep it drawn to the corner of your ear," his father whispered into his ear, his thick Nordic accent comforting to the thirteen year old Dragonborn as he sighted in the buck that wondered into their clearing. "Raise your sights just a hair. Remember, for every yard, raise your sights one hair. That's a lad. Now take a deep breathe and release... now!"_

 _The iron-tipped arrow sang through the clearing before piercing the deer in the trifecta; lung, heart lung. The majestic creature fell to the earth in an instant, and the hand his father had on his left shoulder pumped jovially._

" _That's a lad!" the old man cried, happily._

"Juhan..." Lydia whispered morosely, rubbing his back soothingly as he stood there, trying his best to look more like the Last Dragonborn who will save Skyrim and less like the milk-drinking coward he actually was, who just lost his father.

"Stormcloaks..." he muttered.

"My Thane?" Lydia asked, confused.

"It was those damned Stormclaoks... if they hadn't have raped my village he would still... I would be able to..."

To what? Juhan asked himself, derisively. Visit him? To see him again? Didn't Juhan tell the old man he never wanted to see him again, after the old codger told him how ma really died? Juhan remembered that night quite clearly, as well.

" _You come back here!" his father roared, ripping the front door of their house open and following his sixteen year old son out into the farm fields._

" _Go to hell!" Juhan hollered back, not afraid if the rest of Rorikstead heard them or not._

" _Boy, I swear, if you don't get back in this house right now, I'll-"_

" _You'll what, leave me to die, like you left ma!? You spineless milk-drinking swine! I hope when you pass you get thrown out of Sovengarde, so I never have to look upon your face again!"_

Those were the last words he ever spoke to his father. His guardian, his mentor, his idol. He will never get to swallow his pride, beg forgiveness, or tell the old man he loved him ever again. He dropped the letter into the snow and tossed the coin purse with his father's meager inheritance away.

The unfeeling veneer he wore shattered, and Juhan, the Last Dragonborn, fell to his knees and cried into the night, uncaring if the rest of Dawnstar heard him or not.

Lydia's hand never left his back. It made him cry even more.

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Well, what do you think? I like to imagine a brave, strong Warrior Dragonborn as a real softie at heart. And this version went right along with that line of thinking. How do you think this situation would impact Juhan's quest to end Alduin? What do you think Juhan would find when he traveled to Sovengarde? Would he find his father walking amongst the other lost souls in the fog? Would he actively search for him, or would he try to avoid him at all costs so he wouldn't have to face him? Tell me whatcha think, I'd love to talk about it!


End file.
